


April Showers, May Flowers

by elzierav



Series: Catching Stardust [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Clover also needs a hug, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gift Fic, Hints of ot4 - Freeform, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Qrow Branwen Needs a Hug, Qrow centric, Secret Dancing Monkey, Soulmates, They get a hug, aaaaangstttttt, future Iron Dragon's Charms, non-graphic nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzierav/pseuds/elzierav
Summary: “Now can I give you a hug?”If fate wouldn’t pull them together, they’d have to do it themselves.Qrow let out a small, startled sound as strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him down to the couch in a tight embrace. As he untangled himself from their undignified mess of long limbs, the shapeshifter became keenly aware of soft chestnut hair tickling at his nose while the Specialist was busy burying his face into the older man’s shoulder, sighing gratefully. The sweet scent of the Captain’s shampoo caressed his nostrils again - and then the air smelled like Clover, the room smelled like Clover, the world smelled like Clover.And then nothing else mattered.In Remnant, soul bonds connect strangers across the globe like a constellation connects stars across the darkness of intergalactic void. But when Qrow's relationships with two of his soulmates cumble into either nonexistence or disaster, he stops caring about soulmates altogether. After all, he doesn't even know what his third soulmark, stuck behind his back, looks like, and he's never wanted to know. And maybe that's for the better. Maybe that's how he can carve out his own path and find love.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Catching Stardust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921894
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	April Showers, May Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SykoShadowRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SykoShadowRose/gifts).



> Part of Secret Dancing Monkey fic exchange on fairgaymers discord server
> 
> Fair Game is endgame, while other ships are mentioned in passing because yall know I love OT4 and I know Syko does too :)

The hot, humid air smelled like Clover. The shampoo bottle in the bottom corner of the shower smelled like Clover. The condensation droplets cluttering the bathroom’s slippery tiles and glass surfaces smelled like Clover. 

The scent was clean, simple, all Atlesian efficiency, yet with a subtle note, fresh, brave, hopeful like flowers on the first day of spring. 

Qrow tried hard not to think about it. He really tried. He was just there to take a shower in Clover's quarters because his own shower decided to break down on the very night after the two of them returned from a long mission in the snowy blizzard. Just his luck.

Qrow really, really tried not to think about it. Really, really tried not to think about his stupid new crush of the week… of the month… of the year or whatever. The Ace Op leader was probably not interested, anyway. 

Clover was too much of a gentleman not to be polite and courteous to Qrow, too much of a brat not to flirt here and there just because he could, because let’s face it, he could flirt with anyone with those guns and those eyes and that smile and they would melt before the tip of his properly polished boots. But the captain was also too much of a classic hopeless romantic who must already be deeply in love with his soulmate, whether he'd met them or not. Clover's heart must already be taken, and there was likely no space in it for the unfortunate shapeshifter. Just his luck, really.

With his good fortune, Clover's soulmate must be really amazing. Maybe he even had several, and they were all phenomenal. That would be just his luck, after all. 

Turning on the shower knobs, Qrow tried his best not to imagine the Operative’s strong, skillful hands touching his body with sudden delicateness, not to imagine those deft digits mapping each line, each fold, each wrinkle, each scar that serve as a canal for the scalding clean water. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and let the burning torrent pour down over his head, hotly trickling down each of his soul marks and awakening the memories they carried.

* * *

Showers weren't so warm, back in the day. When they stayed with the tribe, they bathed in rivers, rubbing icy water onto their pale skins until the dirt, the damn red dirt that got everywhere would go away. Sometimes the stains didn't go away, because even ice water can't make a bruise vanish, and those times they just scrubbed harder. They couldn't rub their own backs, so Qrow washed Raven’s, and she washed his in return, like a good twin should.

"Ow," Qrow cried out to his sister, busy scrubbing his back. 

"It's because you're gross, baby bro."

"I'm only ten minutes younger than you, Rae," the pre-teen boy pouted back, splashing chill water at her face and earning a startled yelp he counted as a small victory.

"Doesn’t change the fact that you're gross. You've got a bit of weeds stuck on your back and they won't go away. It looks like it’s encrusted in your skin now. It's even a weird colour, like with bits of blue, maybe it's rotting. Ew. If you keep watering it by washing yourself it might grow into a tree with its roots in your shoulder. A rotten tree with a lot of gross moss. And that's really gross."

"And you can't rub the plant bits off?"

"I was gonna try but then you started whining like a wee baby."

He could practically hear her sticking her tongue out from behind his back.

"I wasn't whining. Maybe it's not coming off because it's a soul mark."

Raven stopped scrubbing in stupor as the realisation dawned on her.

"A third one?" She wondered, confused. "I thought me having two was already a lot."

There was already the blue pointy stick thing painted on the side of his abdomen, and the weird freaky snake with little legs looping around the sun that sits on his left ankle. That one rarely flickered into existence before vanishing - that one soulmate whose emblem that is mustn't think about Qrow very often. Why would they think of him, anyway? He only brought misfortune everywhere he went, hardly a desirable trait in a soulmate.

"Jealous, Rae?" He grinned, knowingly pushing the buttons that'd foster her irritation.

"Why would I be? If it just appeared now, your soulmate must be just a baby. Look, baby bro has an even baby-er soulmate! Baby bro must really be wanting to go change their diapers right now!"

"Shut up!" He howled, swiveling around so she lost her balance and fell back into the icy water. 

A scowl painted on her features, she caught his scrawny arm and dragged him down with her. He barked out a laugh as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs, triumphant that he managed to trigger a reaction from Raven, before a mouthful of cold water cut his laughter short. By the time he’d spat out the liquid, she’d already attempted to twist his arm behind his back, cackling like her namesake bird as she did so. 

Both twins were equally strong, equally skilled, for even at their age fighting skill was required to survive within the tribe - the weak died, only the strong lived on. But as they wrestled on the rocky riverbed, Qrow remembered she bore a weakness he didn’t share. And allowing a small smile to creep onto his lips, he grabbed a fistful of her messy waist-long hair and tugged sharply, forcing her face back underwater. 

"Stop! Stop!" she begged between loud coughs that sputtered out icy water. “If you don’t stop I won’t tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“What it looks like,” she smirked. “The new soul mark you can’t see on your back.”

She paused for dramatic effect as he let go of her soaked locks, contentedly contemplating the effects of her threat on her suddenly dubitative sibling.

“You know what? Don’t tell me. I don’t care.”

Why would he care anyway? Why would he want to know what the emblem of that random baby was? Why would he want anything to do with that toddler, why would he want to bring misfortune into the life of that poor soul unlucky enough to have him as a soulmate, that poor soul that was only an infant of all people? Knowing about the mark of two of his soulmates was far enough already.

He didn’t care, and she didn’t tell him. 

He didn’t care, and he never looked. 

He never found out, because he didn’t care anyway.

* * *

It didn’t take Qrow very long to figure out that Tai was his soulmate. Tai walked around the bathroom of their shared dorms unashamedly shirtless and wearing only boxers, his soul marks on full display for Qrow to witness. With the girls, he was slightly more reserved. Emphasis on slightly. 

Qrow wondered if the skirt ploy aimed at checking Tai’s soul mark on his male teammate’s pale legs. If it hadn’t worked, Tai would probably have challenged him to turn up topless to class the next day, so the young scythe-wielder was secretly grateful that the golden symbol sat on his ankle rather than his upper body.

The yellow was pale against his skin. Without scrutiny, it could hardly be noticed at all. Qrow’s grandfather had approved that. Displaying attachments was a weakness, and one must hide any emotional bonds to be strong. 

Only Tai’s ultramarine eyes noticed it as they furtively flickered down while he brushed his shoulder against Qrow’s on his way out of the shower. The blonde’s tan skin was hot, nearly burning and covered in a sheen of still smoking water.

“Hope you didn’t use up all the hot water,” the smaller teammate grumbled as he hiked up the towel rolled around his slender waist. 

“Gotta live up to my name, man,” Tai retorted with an easy smile. “They don’t call me sun dragon for nothing. Besides, I like my showers like I like my men. And women.”

Qrow sighed deeply, a frown creasing the space between his brows.

“I don’t wanna know how you like your men and women, o great fire-breathing sun dragon. Just let me go shower already.”

The brawler swiped a quick, wet finger against his teammate’s bare arm, inspecting the collected grime from the day’s mission with a mock glare of disapproval. A caress, an unspoken question, thrumming tentatively through their soul bond. A response - a shrug, and then silence. Tai was usually boisterous and loud, but this time his soulmate’s dismissive silence spoke louder than words, and he barely dared disrupt it even after a nervous pause.

Eventually, the blonde took a loud whiff at his dirty finger, maybe even licked it albeit only a little bit, only a teensy tiny bit before declaring:

“Yeah, not a bad idea to clean yourself up, dusty old crow.”

* * *

When one focuses hard enough, one can hear the thoughts of their soulmates, if said person simultaneously focuses on their bond. 

Not that Qrow wanted to, but Oz taught him how to.

Ozpin chose Raven and Qrow not only because of their abilities, but also because of their soulmates. 

They’ve got two or more each, which is rare enough in Remnant, and allows them to read the thoughts of more than one other people across the continents. It comes in handy for spying. 

Raven’s got Summer and Tai. 

Qrow’s got James and two mystery people. 

That’s right. He never told Ozpin about Tai. Never told Raven about Tai, never told anyone. 

Judging by Rae’s Semblance which can keep her and her soulmates close by, and her twin’s Semblance which only causes mayhem that will inevitably drive them apart, Qrow thinks it’s probably better this way. 

They’ll probably be happier this way, without him. 

* * *

“Stay still,” James commanded sternly.

An order that would ordinarily demand respect. An order that only succeeded in instigating rebellion in Qrow’s turbulent mind. 

The shapeshifter knowingly chose that instant to teasingly twist in his seated position in the bathtub. Immediately, searing pain shot through his wounded shoulder, eliciting a wince and a muttered curse under his breath. 

“I told you to stay still,” the General repeated patiently. “I can’t tend to your injuries if you keep moving around.”

“But Jimmy, the bathtub floor’s hard,” the shapeshifter wailed, “it hurts my butt.”

As he shifted uncomfortably in the tub, his back arched into Ironwood’s touch while the taller man rubbed a warm, wet cloth against the skin of Qrow’s back, covered in a crisscross of scratches.

“That is something I can’t allow to happen.”

His tone echoed with certainty, unshakeable certainty, and Qrow would have believed him even if he said he could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. James was strong, steady like an anchor at the bottom of the sea, and the scythe-wielder could drown in those ocean blue eyes. Qrow was fleeting, chaotic, a bird caught in a storm while seeking to soar above the clouds. The bond between them stretched like the line where the sky met the sea - never quite attainable, yet always present as long as Remnant existed, ineluctable, unbreakable. They were matching parts of a whole, like day and night, shadow and light, even though no one could tell which was which. 

Oz may have recruited James into his inner circle because he was Qrow’s soulmate. Or the opposite may have been true. Neither of them knew, and in that moment neither of them cared. 

All they cared about was the particularly vicious nest of Sabyrs Qrow had single-handedly destroyed, saving a nearby village, at the cost of his Aura and some nasty gashes on his shoulder. All they cared about was the long journey to James’s closest safe house he’d flown in his bird form afterwards, through the night, through the cold, through the storm, with only his soul bond with Jimmy to guide him across the darkness. All they cared about was the collection of more or less gruesome wounds Qrow had racked up through his fight, injuries Ironwood tried his best at cleaning and bandaging.

The shapeshifter gasped in surprise as the General discarded his coat and clambered into the narrow, uncomfortable bathtub behind his soulmate. Ignoring the shifter’s startled yelp, Ironwood picked him up and sat him on his lap. As it turned out, Jimmy’s muscular, warm thighs proved vastly more gentle to Qrow’s behind than the cold hard bottom of the tub. Unperturbed as if nothing had happened, James resumed the meticulous task of cleaning Qrow’s wounds.

“Mmm, don’t stop...” the shapeshifter murmured as the General’s touch preened him continuously. “You’re so warm… so nice...”

Ironwood’s heartbeat was loud and steady at his soulmate’s back, as regular as a ticking clock. The sapphire soul mark at Qrow’s side, under his ribcage, shone more vividly than ever, almost buzzing with heat. And even with his eyelids shut as he succumbs to tiredness and soft ministrations, the scythe-wielder could tell that his crimson mark painted upon Ironwood’s shoulder must pulsate just as brightly. Even blindly, the shifter’s long fingers could search their way to the side of James’s shoulder blade where the soul brand resided, following the map of the larger man’s toned, symmetric, perfect chest. Even blindly, he could remember the lines, the curves, the path that his fingertips must trace, for their bodies fit together just as flawlessly as their souls did. 

Neither of them needed to say anything when the fingers of the General’s free hand found his own mark just beneath Qrow’s heart. Words were unnecessary, words were but a hindrance. Their minds already matched perfectly, pulled together across the space, across the silence by the tides of fortune. 

Together, they were unbreakable. Together, they were whole.

* * *

It was raining outside.

It was raining, yet Qrow headed out under the downpour. 

Together, they were whole. Unbreakable, unbroken. Until they weren’t. 

It was your fault, you bad luck bird, he kept telling himself. It was your fault, everyone seemed to tell him, to insinuate in his direction. If he hadn’t allowed himself to grow close to his soulmate, that wouldn’t have happened. The  _ incident  _ wouldn’t have happened at the mines. He wouldn’t have felt his soul bound with James staggering with searing pain, he wouldn’t have found Jimmy, his Jimmy’s body broken amongst the Dust and debris. If Qrow hadn’t let his guard down and let his misfortune affect his soulmate, Ironwood wouldn’t be in a hospital with half his body ruined beyond recognition, with the beeps of monitors and the clicks of metal pumps in lieu of a heartbeat.

It was his fault. 

It was his fault, even the soul bond seemed to imply as it shut down completely. Maybe Qrow’s mark on Jimmy’s body was gone, not that the shifter would know. Even Jimmy had shut Qrow out. Even focusing the hardest he could, all he could perceive on the other side was silence. 

Silence was deafening, colder than rivulets of icy water running down his skin, more scalding than the burn of a thousand suns. He was soaked to the bone, but compared to the pain, the rainwater was nothing. 

He had to numb the pain. He had to numb the pain if he wanted to keep moving on. And he knew Oz wanted him to keep moving on. Tai needed him to keep moving on, the kids needed him to keep moving on. 

Fortunately, no thanks to his luck, the nearest bar was still open. 

At least he didn’t head out under the rain for nothing.

* * *

“Another one,” Qrow ordered, slamming down the glass on the dark wooden countertop already stained with multiple wet rings reeking with the scent of lukewarm whiskey.

“That one’s on me,” Raven sneered, shooting the waitress a look that caused her to scamper away. “You really still don’t wanna know?” 

Words were unnecessary. He already knew what she meant. After so many years, he still didn’t want to know, would not want to know, would never want to know what she saw that day in the icy river. They knew each other too well. They were the two broken halves that’ll never make a whole, but that was all they’d got left now after all other bonds have shriveled or shut down.

“What for? To go find out who my last soulmate is? I don’t wanna ruin another life.”

Another chance. He would have gained another chance, after what happened, or rather didn’t happen with Tai. After what happened, and shouldn’t have happened, to James. Life gave him a third chance, and yet he refused to take it.

Incomprehension, at first. Incomprehension that bled into understanding within her crimson irises. And slowly, into resignation. 

“You ever felt anything through that bond?” she asked.

“Never cared enough to try. Besides, if Oz found out I could use that bond to communicate with their mind, he’d probably drag that unfortunate person into his schemes as well. And working for Oz may have it perks but...”

“Does a high probability of getting murdered for a war that can’t be won count as a perk to you?”

“That was gonna count in the  _ but _ part. Nice professorship was a pretty good perk, y’know?”

“You earned your professorship with your skill and your hard work, that has nothing to do with Oz,” she snarled, a furious light in her eyes. 

“Oh yeah? And how would you know that? You’ve been away the whole time.”

“Well, you and I have always been equal in skill, which makes you way enough qualified to teach combat. I know most of the other combat professors where you teach, I know I could hand them their asses on a platter for breakfast.”

Even Qrow’s drunk self agreed, his sister was terrifying. The glare she currently gratified him with was likely sufficient to scare a handful of Signal teachers into hiding as well as slice like lasers through the feathers of a fully grown Nevermore. 

Still, that many asses would require a large platter. A  _ very  _ large platter.

“Wouldn’t that be a bit much for breakfast?”

“For brunch then?”

“For brunch.”

The tribe never indulged in such frivolities as brunch, as early birds despising those who slept in late rather than waking early to get the worm. When the twins discovered the decadent brunch tradition from Summer and her endless waffles and pancakes and Tai and his late morning fried eggs, they found themselves enjoying brunch much more than worms. Partaking in the act appealed to them as rebellion against their upbringing, and brunching remained one of the rare things the siblings still had in common even after time and destiny had driven a wedge between them two.

“How’s Tai holding up?” he drawled after a pause, pondering on how long it's been since he'd last been treated to fried eggs.

“Oh, y’know. Still flirting with everything that moves. So to my standard, he’s fine.”

“C’mon Rae, it’s Tai. He’d still be flirting with all the nurses on his deathbed.”

“True.”

Being Tai’s soulmate was almost easy. The blonde never considered his soul marks as much of a limitation as to whom he could court or not, favouring going with the flow as was the custom on the isle of Patch. He never gave his soulmates a second thought, hardly ever even bragged about how fortunate he’d been to be on a whole team of his soulmates. For both the twins in their own way, leaving Tai had been easy, too easy. 

“But you’ve seen him recently, right?” Qrow prompted.

“Briefly. I saved his butt when he was in trouble.”

“Deadly kind of trouble?”

“Deadly kind of trouble. You know… it’s Tai. Thrill-seeker, serial flirter, risks his life for fun and bragging rights every other morning between watering the plants and changing the kids’ diapers.”

“Maybe he put his life on the line so you'd come, just because he really wanted to see you?”

“He knows I’ll never stay.”

A truth. An ineluctable truth. 

Birds of bad omen always flew away when things took a turn for the better. They always came for April showers, but never stayed for May flowers.

“Qrow, you don’t have to stay.”

Maybe it’d be easier to leave. To come to his soulmates’ aid, to rescue James or Tai or the kids when their lives were at stake, but fly away as soon as he could. Maybe it’d be easier not to linger, not to watch his soulmates wilt before his eyes through the action of his own Semblance, through the action of him just being the pitiful mess he’d become. 

“Wanna hear good news?” his sister teased in her flattest, least enthusiastic tone.

Birds of bad omens never brought good news. But he quirked a curious eyebrow, almost hopeful.

“What, you figured out how to roast marshmallows using Yang’s hair through a portal without her noticing?”

The corner of her lips curled upward ever so slightly into her most convincing imitation of a smile at his jibe. It was rather gruesome to watch.

“I’ve made a new portal.”

“To someone new?”

Expectation hung near weightless in his tone.

“Not someone you know. Not a soulmate of mine.”

So it was possible. She could carve her own path, away from what tragic destinies had been planned for them birds of bad omen. She could carve her own path, or at least her sword could for her.

“Have you… met someone?”

She could carve her own path. Maybe, so could he.

There wasn’t much hope, but then again, that was all the hope he had left, like a candle flickering under the rain but refusing to be extinguished. If fate had plagued each of his relations with his soulmates, maybe he could carve his own path outside of destiny’s clutches, find someone that wasn’t a soulmate, and just maybe things wouldn’t crash and burn down to the ground. If it failed, he didn’t have to stay anyway.

Maybe he didn’t have to stay alone. Maybe he just had to stop giving a damn about who his soulmates were. Both those he knew, and the one he didn’t care about enough to figure out who they were.

“Since when do I tell you about my love life, baby bro?”

She’d been gossiping back in STRQ days, but her sibling had simply covered his ears in response, exasperated enough about sharing dorms with a threesome that included his twin to want to hear anything more about it.

“You’re right. Your love life is gross.” 

* * *

Qrow left Clover’s bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his bird’s nest of hair, wearing crumpled Atlas military issue pyjamas he’d brought from his own quarters. He abhorred the look of that outfit, the dull gray top and duller gray bottoms if that were even possible, the plethora of identical logos, the vomit-inducing loss of individuality that imposed Huntsmen should wear uniforms even in their own beds, of all places. But that was better than nothing, better than being naked in front of Clover and having to run back to his own room just as undressed, so he stuck his hands into the functional but boring gray pockets and kept his judgements to himself.

Apparently, Clover shared his hatred of the standard pyjamas. Enough so, at least, to slouch in his sofa with nothing more on than a towel wrapped around his waist and his Scroll between his hands, busy filling in some mission report or other. Oh, and that red arm sash that never seemed to leave him, that arm sash that brought out the teal green of his irises by contrast, that arm sash that broke the symmetry in a fashion Qrow’s eyes found rather cute. 

All that powerful expanse of perfect musculature, all that Atlesian efficiency carved in alabaster, rendered incomparably more approachable and adorable by those touches that rebelled against symmetry, by a crooked grin, by a red sash around one arm, by a cute black tattoo on the other side that chiselled chest, just below the crook of his shoulder. Perhaps involuntarily, the shapeshifter leant in closer to inspect what the inked symbol represented...

“Shamrock tattoo, huh? Isn’t it a little on the nose? Even for you?”

A three-leaved shamrock unlike the one on his pin, but still.

The proximity between them felt so natural Qrow didn't realise it at first. 

He was too close, yet too far. Yearning to reach even closer but sensing the younger man’s shapely muscles tensing under the staring and the prying. But Clover didn’t back away, and both of them struggled to find the balance, for perhaps there was no balance, perhaps the two of them weren’t meant to be… 

“Oh, it’s a cover-up actually. Tattoo artist thought it would be funny.”

“A cover-up?”

“It used to be a stylised version of all my soul marks, so that I could have them all permanently on my skin even when they’re not thinking of me.”

“You big romantic sap.”

“Yeah… pretty much.”

A genuine smile. Dreadfully contagious as it glimmered out of those teal eyes, despite the vulnerability, even more radiant because of the vulnerability, and if that wasn’t beautiful, Qrow didn’t know what was. 

“Wait… all your soul marks?”

Two were rare. More would be a stretch.

“Got three of them… you could say I got lucky,” Clover chuckled darkly, his gaze momentarily downcast.

“So then why cover them up?”

“Academy times, shared showers, and all that jazz. People just kept... commenting. Especially on one of the marks, but it didn’t feel right concealing just that one and leaving the other two exposed.”

“What, you’ve got a soul bond to a rock star or something? Or a famous actor? Wait, don’t tell me… is it Spruce Willis? Hold on… is it-”

“Worse than that. My soulmate was my teacher at the time.”

“Huh, inappropriate student teacher crushes. Had my fair share of those back when I was teaching at Signal. Don’t think any of my students had a soul bond with me though. I really hope not.”

“The other cadets would say I was top of my year because I was the teacher’s pet, y’know, as his soulmate. They never mentioned it when they saw I was around, but let's say I got lucky enough to remain unnoticed more than a couple of times while they talked about it. Even after we graduated, word would spread that the real reason why I was rising through the ranks so fast was the fact I was so lucky to have a soul bond with a high-ranking officer… Looking back, I shouldn’t have cared much about what they said, but at the time...”

Clover’s voice trailed off, his shoulder slumping uncomfortably as Qrow attempted to change the subject. 

“What about the two others? Any other rock stars you’d like to share with the class, lucky charm?”

The shapeshifter was increasingly convinced Clover’s arm band concealed a soul mark or two - but he wouldn’t peel it off without permission, and the Captain didn’t seem ashamed of it, rather wearing the sash as if it were the most comfortable pyjamas in all of Remnant. 

“I haven’t really thought about the other two lately, other things have been on my mind like my job and saving the world from Salem. I’m a lucky guy, you know, so I trust that I’ll meet the other soulmates in time. And that we’ll make it work out, somehow, even if it hasn’t worked out once because they were my teacher doesn’t mean it won’t ever work out. We’ll figure something out.”

Admiration dawned in Qrow’s mind - admiration for a soul that didn’t give up, for a soul determined to put in effort when the time comes, even if luck wasn’t enough. Admiration that soon bled into understanding...

“Wait up, boy scout… are you meaning to say Jimmy’s your soulmate?”

The Ace Op flinched, gaping as if he’d sensed accusatory implications in Qrow’s words.

“The General’s always been… appropriate about it. He was always aware of the rumours and the scrutiny on both of us as a result, and he always kept his distance. Nothing ever happened between us that wasn’t professional, and I’m grateful to him for that.”

“So he learnt the hard way.”

"...what?"

"Never mind. Many accusations can be leveled against Jimmy, but abusing his power to put his soulmates and friends in charge is something he’s way too proper to even consider. He likes to be surrounded with people he can control and trust, but he would never put his personal preferences before his duty.”

“Wow, you must know him well… you sound so certain.”

A hint of dismay - jealousy perhaps? Whatever it was, it hurt, it goddamn hurt, and Qrow was determined to wipe that darkness away, whatever it took, however much it hurt.

A memory. Qrow blinked, and the reminiscence flew past the background of the inside of his eyelids. A memory shrouded in shadows and nightmares, but a chance he must cast before it flew away.

“Clover, I know you might not believe me, but everything you’ve achieved is through your own merit and hard work, and not just because you were lucky that your soulmate happens to be the commander of the whole goddamn military. I’ve seen how you move and how you fight in the field, and I’ve rarely seen that much skill in a fellow Huntsman. I know it took years and years of practice to achieve that level.”

Those were probably years and years of telling himself he was worthless, he wasn’t good enough, and only got there thanks to his Semblance and those soul bonds he was fortunate enough to have. Years and years of working harder than anyone else just to prove to himself he wasn’t nothing, years and years of waiting till late to use the practice rooms alone so others wouldn’t make fun of his soulmarks, years and years of trying, yet failing to entirely shake off that undeserving feeling that clung to his skin at every breath he took, every beat his heart beat. 

Qrow wished to tell the Operative it was over now, to wrap him in a tight, warm hug and watch all their issues dissolve into thin air. But he knew even hugs wouldn’t magically wash their problems away, and judging by how the brunette had tensed after their earlier proximity, perhaps physical contact wasn’t the best course of action. 

“You’ve been watching me?” Clover echoed candidly, causing a blush to blossom upon the scythe-wielder’s cheeks at the realisation of the admission he’d just made.

“Shouldn’t I be watching your back, as your partner? Besides, seeing how you carry yourself in the field, even if you got the job from sheer luck you wouldn’t have survived for long as an Ace Op if it weren’t for sheer skill.”

“What do you mean? I am a careful and responsible leader.”

“Oh. You are,” the realisation dawned on Qrow, and what it implied only made his feelings for Clover stronger. “For your team, for the kids… you make sure they don’t get in harm’s way, you even make sure that they develop their skills and learn while under your command. And I respect and admire that. But for you? You always keep the riskiest job for yourself, you never look before you jump into the void, and you have to add a salute and a backflip for good measure!”

Every jump, every flip, every wink must have been an effort to prove himself, a step alongside a journey with no end, with no happiness at the end if he was trying to convince himself of his own value. On the other hand, if it were someone else he were trying to persuade...

“Maybe I was trying to impress a special someone.”

That cute crooked smile again. That glint of confidence in deep aqua eyes. Qrow liked shiny things, but this was more than just shiny. This was priceless. 

“Then impress them by not dying, boy scout!”

“It’s not like anyone would care. With my luck, no one really expects me to get badly hurt.”

A truth, one that Qrow would never comprehend after seeing everyone unfortunate enough to cross his path bleed and suffer the consequences of his misfortune.

“Jimmy cares. He likely never said it, because he’s the shittiest possible person at communicating who forgets where the stupid send button is, but he cares. Your team does care, despite the sticks they like to put up their asses to please Jimmy and the Ice Queen. The kids care, you guys are the new family they got now since arriving in Atlas. And I care.”

“Really?”

Clover sounded like he couldn’t believe his luck, and from the most fortunate man in all of Remnant, that was… endearing.

“Really. Now can I give you a hug?”

If fate wouldn’t pull them together, they’d have to do it themselves. 

Qrow let out a small, startled sound as strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him down to the couch in a tight embrace. As he untangled himself from their undignified mess of long limbs, the shapeshifter became keenly aware of soft chestnut hair tickling at his nose while the Specialist was busy burying his face into the older man’s shoulder, sighing gratefully. The sweet scent of the Captain’s shampoo caressed his nostrils again - and then the air smelled like Clover, the room smelled like Clover, the world smelled like Clover. 

And then nothing else mattered. 

Qrow couldn’t tell for sure if he did it himself, or if fate, fortune, or misfortune pulled them together. 

All he could tell was that the next second, he bent down to plant a gentle kiss atop Clover’s mess of hair. Heat crept its way up his neck as the shifter realised what he’d done. Was it out of line? Did he just take advantage of the Ace Op’s moment of vulnerability? What if Clover was still waiting to meet his soulmates, trusting full well he’d come to love them one day, trusting full well he’d be able to write down a happy ending or two?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...” the shifter mumbled, his blush blazing through his cheekbones. 

“Well, that’s awkward. Because I totally mean to do this.”

And to accompany his whispered words, the Operative freed himself from Qrow’s embrace to press his lips equally softly to the older man’s forehead, delicately gracing the barely visible wrinkles. His lips were freezing, his lips were burning, his lips were everything - and yet, they felt warm, natural, as if they were meant to be. 

“Hey, lucky charm, think you can teach the old monkey new tricks?” the shifter chided gruffly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, come here and let me show you how it’s done.”

Clover nuzzled back only to gladly to the scythe-wielder’s chest, allowing Qrow’s lips, still humid from his shower, still saturated with the scent of the Specialist’s shampoo, to trail kisses down the middle of his forehead to the space between his brow, ironing out any folds worries and frowns may have sculpted. And one kiss wasn’t enough, two kisses weren’t enough, for each kiss yearned to convey everything at once, love and admiration and love and respect and desperation and so much love and then some. Each kiss didn’t care if they weren’t soulmates, for the probability of that would be infinitesimal given the population of Remnant. Each kiss didn’t care if their Semblances matched, if fortune and misfortune pulled them together, if together they were whole, if they’d ever be whole, if they could ever be. 

Because all that mattered was right here, right now, the brokenness and the wholeness, the perfection and the imperfection, each scar and each freckle the kisses graced with uttermost reverence. All that mattered was right here, right now, and everything else and fate and fortune could all go fuck themselves right now. The kisses couldn’t give a damn, and frankly neither did Qrow as his lips mapped down the sculptural arcade of the soldier’s nose all the way to the tip, that he gently booped before leaning in to deposit a last peck. 

He missed. Just his luck.

Neither could tell if it was a lucky accident. Neither could tell who took the last step, the boldest step and crashed their lips together. The crash had both the violence and the vulnerability of the waves meeting the shore, and then retreating to leave the naked sand uncovered. The crash left them on the wayside like seafoam, like sand grains, collateral damage of the tides of time and destiny, of misfortune and fortune, stardust that didn’t fit within the constellations that led the way, because they’d left the way now, they’d started carving their own way. 

But carving took time, carving took tries, and their lips collided again and again, tentatively at first, tasting the clean taste of shower water from each other that left them wanting more, more taste, more warmth, more everything. Again and again their lips collided, each kiss lasting longer, delving deeper than the previous until their lips wouldn’t part, until they would only breathe each other, only breathe the same air, because they could never have enough and would never have enough. 

It wasn’t destiny that kept them together. It wasn’t probabilities, good or bad luck. They remained in their embrace because they wanted to, and whether fate wanted it or not, they’d figure out a way. Their tongues clashed languidly, dancing a slow dance that was headed a certain direction, and they didn’t need their minds to be bonded to know that.

“If you don’t mind, I was just thinking of going to bed,” Clover summarised eloquently. “To sleep, I mean.”

It’d been a long day, and their bodies still bore the memories of that biting blizzard.

“Actually, I was thinking the same," Qrow noted. Funny coincidence, huh? Just our luck I guess.”

A silence. 

“Well, I guess I should get going, boy scout...”

“Stay.”

“Nice try, but no matter how good your puppy dog eyes are, you won’t steal Marrow’s Semblance.”

A brief chuckle, shared for fleeting seconds.

“Only if you’d like, I mean? Stay the night, to sleep?”

A shadow flickered past Qrow’s gaze, the promises of nightmares while sharing a bed not overly appealing to his mind. Of course there was a chance that he'd dream of STRQ brunches, pancakes and fried eggs, but he wasn't sure that even with Clover and his good fortune present he wanted to try his luck…

"If you're worried about nightmares, don't worry Qrow. I've got you. I'm here for you."

Was Clover reading his mind? Could he…? The shifter's mind was suddenly too tired to infer the possibilities and probabilities… Not that he'd care, anyway. They wanted this, they both did, right here and right now, turning away from the path traced by connected stars and intricate soul bonds to close their hands and catch the stardust, catch the glistening light before it drifted away between their fingers. Maybe they would manage, maybe it would be a lucky catch. Maybe Qrow could try, just this once, to stay.

"Okay."

After all, the perspective of cuddling wasn't too unappealing, Qrow's mind decided a few minutes later as Clover's bare torso snuggled into his back against the fabric of his pyjamas, against the mysterious mark on his shoulder blade that Raven hadn't managed to scrub off, that even decades and decades of time and hardships hadn't managed to scrub off. 

Maybe that disgusting weed hadn't sprouted a tree on his shoulder, even after all those years, but there was a probability the roots of a certain lucky plant had wormed their way through to his heart… not that he'd mind, in the present moment. He was showered and ready to fall asleep, and right now being rotten and gross was the least of his concerns.

**Author's Note:**

> qfsdsgfgsqfgkjqo
> 
> I have no idea how to write soulmates there is so much angst involved
> 
> Let me know in the comments how I did


End file.
